Why had not Soolsby told the world the truth since?
Was the man waiting to see what course he himself would take?
Had the old chair-maker perhaps written the truth to the Egyptian--to his brother David.
His brother! The thought irritated every nerve in him.

No note of kindness or kinship or blood stirred in him.

If, before, he had had innate antagonism and a dark, hovering jealousy, he had a black repugnance now--the antipathy of the lesser to the greater nature, of the man in the wrong to the man in the right.
And behind it all was the belief that his wife had set David above him--by how much or in what fashion he did not stop to consider; but it made him desire that death and the desert would swallow up his father's son and leave no trace behind.
Policy?
His work in the Foreign Office now had but one policy so far as Egypt was concerned.

The active sophistry in him made him advocate non-intervention in Egyptian affairs as diplomatic wisdom, though it was but personal purpose; and he almost convinced himself that he was acting from a national stand-point.

Kaid and Claridge Pasha pursued their course of civilisation in the Soudan, and who could tell what danger might not bring forth?
If only Soolsby held his peace yet a while! Did Faith know?
Luke Claridge was gone without speaking, but had Soolsby told Faith?
How closely had he watched the faces round him at Luke Claridge's funeral, to see if they betrayed any knowledge! Anxious days had followed that night in the laboratory.